


Keepsake

by triste



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-21
Updated: 2012-11-21
Packaged: 2017-11-19 05:04:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/569420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/triste/pseuds/triste
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin does these things because he cares.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keepsake

Title: Keepsake  
Author: Triste  
Fandom: Merlin  
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin  
Rating: PG  
Status: Complete  
Disclaimer: Not mine

~~

Hunith watches as Merlin prepares the stew he offered to make that morning. She remembers a time when Merlin hated having to cook, when he couldn't even peel vegetables without cutting himself by accident. She looks at him now, his eyes focused, his fingers quick and sure, and something clenches inside her chest.

Merlin smiles up at her, so beautiful and so wistful, and Hunith feels her heart ache with love for him, with sorrow for the boy she barely recognises anymore.

"Don't look at me like that, Mum," he says.

"Like what?" she asks softly.

"Like I'm a stranger."

It only takes three steps to reach where Merlin is standing. It takes even less effort for Hunith to put her arms around him and hold him close.

"You've changed," she whispers. "You're stronger. It's everything I ever hoped for."

"I'm not that different," he protests, but he loops his own arms around her waist anyway and squeezes gently.

"You are," she insists, soaking in his scent, his warmth. "I'm so proud of you. Never forget that."

"Mum," he says, confused and probably a little bit embarrassed. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she tells him, though he still seems vaguely concerned when she pulls away. "Look at you, your hair needs cutting. It's getting too long at the back."

"That's what Arthur keeps saying." Merlin reaches up and touches the nape of his neck self-consciously. "He says that my head is starting to look like a duck's arse from behind."

"Don't say arse, Merlin," she admonishes. "It's vulgar."

Merlin grins crookedly, and for a second it's like things are how they used to be before he left. The loneliness tugs at Hunith sharper than ever, but she forces herself not to think about it. Merlin has found his path, and it's not the same as hers. She's already let him go. The time he spends with her now, brief though it may be, is to be treasured, not lamented.

It's why she continues to watch as Merlin lays the table (and making sure Arthur gets the nicest bowl, she notices, the one that doesn't have chips in the rim). She wants to remember everything about him, the way he was then, and the way he is now. The way he serves Arthur before anyone else. The way he makes sure there's always enough water for him to drink. The way he gives him second helpings before Arthur is about to ask for more.

It's more than the simple relationship between a master and servant, Hunith knows. It's more than a sense of duty that keeps Merlin attuned to Arthur's needs. Merlin does these things because he cares, because Arthur means more to him than anything.

It's the devotion and affection that Hunith always sees in Merlin's eyes whenever he looks at Arthur. It's the way he always wakes up first in a morning, to set out Arthur's clothes for the day, the movement of his hands as he dresses his prince, practised and confident, as they fasten up laces and buckles.

The two of them bicker and tease, and Hunith almost feels sorry for poor Gaius, having to put up with them on a daily basis, but it shows just how far Merlin has come. He's never had this sense of companionship with anyone else before, not even Will. He's never fit in anywhere before, but now he has his place. Everything he does is for Arthur, for the person he's sworn to protect with his life.

And so Hunith does whatever she can to help, because Merlin is her son and he will always be the most important person in her life, even if she isn't the most important person in his.

"I can't believe you let it get so messy," she sighs, making a start on giving Merlin's hair a much-needed trim. "You know it goes all curly when it's long."

Arthur snorts into his cup and Hunith hears the muttered words "duck" and "arse". Merlin smiles in a way that's as angelic as it is calculating.

"Mum, I think Arthur might need his hair cutting, too."

Arthur chokes on his tea. Hunith takes pity on him. "Would you like me to cut your hair, Arthur?" she asks politely.

"It's fine," says Arthur, pointedly ignoring Merlin's snickers. "I wouldn't want to be an inconvenience."

But he ends up taking Merlin's place anyway, once Hunith is finished with him, and she makes sure to be extra careful as she snips away at his hair with the scissors. Locks of gold and raven mingle with each other from where they've fallen, creating a tiny tapestry of colour on the grey stone floor.

Hunith insists on saving them as a keepsake. It's silly and sentimental, but it's proof that Merlin and Arthur are here and that they exist together.

She once heard from Merlin that Arthur doesn't have a mother. It might be why he has a tendency to get awkward and flustered around her, especially when she calls him "dear". Merlin always calls him a prat, to which Arthur always responds by calling Merlin an idiot, and that inevitably leads to yet another argument.

Sometimes, for all that he's changed, Hunith thinks Merlin hasn't grown up that much, but his behaviour, like everything else, seems to be directly related to Arthur. They support each other, provoke each other and protect each other. There's a sense of belonging about them, a sense of destiny, and Hunith prays every day for their safety and good health.

It never gets any easier to say good-bye, but Merlin promises to write and visit again soon. He accepts Hunith's embraces more easily than Arthur, who gets flustered again when she gives him a farewell kiss on the cheek.

"Take care of each other," she says, and Merlin gives her one last hug.

"We will," he promises. "Or rather I will. You and I both know Arthur is hopeless without me."

"I beg your pardon?" says Arthur, disgruntled. "Which one of us still can't wield a sword properly?"

"And which one of us still can't dress himself on his own?" Merlin counters.

At this rate, they'll probably end up bickering all the way to Camelot. Merlin is so busy proving a point to Arthur that he forgets all about the promise he just made and nearly guides his horse headlong into a ditch.

Hunith doesn't think she'll ever stop worrying about Merlin. He's still too careless sometimes, still too reckless, but he does have Arthur by his side. And that counts for more than either of them will ever admit.

 

End.


End file.
